


Watson's fingers

by Tiofrean



Series: Watson's everything [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A brief mention of a sex encounter that gone bad, Anal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Fluff, M/M, but very brief I promise, one tiny sliver of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John fucks Sherlock with his fingers. A minor crisis towards the end that results in fluff. Just a PWP with two sentences of plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watson's fingers

**Author's Note:**

> I needed this out of my system, because I'm stuck with my work and writing always seems to be helpful. PWP mostly, maybe two sentences of plot. I have a thing for fingers, especially in this context.... Enjoy!
> 
> Not beta-ed and not Brit-picked (I speak AmE)

John, sitting on his bed between two pale thighs, watched fascinated as his middle finger disappeared inside the tight heat of Sherlock's body. The detective squirmed, legs twitching, and gasped quietly. He was hot, almost feverish, cheeks flushed and sweating slightly. His hands were fisting and relaxing in the sheets, giving in to the rhythm of John's finger. 

“John...” the detective moaned, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. The doctor started to make slow circles with his digit, stretching the tight hole a little more. John was mesmerized by the warmth and softness of that quivering flesh, trying to stretch it a little further, easing his way in with a generous amount of lube he used earlier. 

It was slick, and tight, and hot, and perfect. 

John looked up at his lover and felt a shiver run down his spine at the wonderful picture he got. Sherlock was looking down at him, eyes dark and expectant, lips parted slightly. He was panting hard now, watching John's face and his hand in turn. 

The doctor let his eyes glide down, over the pale chest rising heavily, down to the flat abdomen covered with milky white skin, down still to the dark trail of delicate hair leading to Sherlock's hard cock. The detective groaned when John licked his lips hungrily, and lowered his head to his heated flesh. The doctor blew at the head gently, drawing a shiver out of the younger man and, not ceasing the movement of his finger thrusting in and out of Sherlock's body, licked a long stripe from the base to the very tip. 

Sherlock bucked and groaned, his muscles fluttering around John's finger.  
“John... more” he moaned in a low voice, grinding down on the digit that no longer provided the desired friction. The doctor shushed him, kissing his pale flesh just above the jutting hipbone. A few thrusts later he lined a second finger along with the first, and pushed them gently but insistently into the willing body. 

A drawn out hiss of “yessssssssss” made it to his ears and he started to suck on the soft skin, just above Sherlock's groin, nibbling it gently every few sucks. Sherlock moaned and writhed above him, starting to move his hips with the increasing rhythm of John's fingers pushing into him. 

The doctor shifted a little, moving to his knees, fingers still moving in and out of the willing body splayed out before him.  
“Sherlock” he growled, stilling his fingers for a moment, making the detective look down at him, eyes heavy-lidded and lips red. John could feel his mouth watering at the sight. 

“Look here, love” The older man commanded and lowered his head, taking hold of Sherlock's member with his other hand and kissing the tip wetly. Sherlock moaned, tossing his head back.

“No, no, no... Sherlock, look down here” he waited for the detective to focus his eyes on the doctor's face again. When he was sure he had Sherlock's undivided attention, he licked the wet head, tasting a few pearly drops that gathered there, and closed his mouth around it, sucking slowly. 

Sherlock's hips bucked and he moaned loudly, curling forward and placing one of his hands on John's sandy-blond hair. The doctor, still looking Sherlock in the eyes, started to lower his head on the rigid shaft in his mouth, the smooth slide of the hard flesh making him hum around it. This caused the younger man to tighten his grip on John's hair, his plush lips falling open and eyes almost closing. 

“John... oh god...” he whispered, forcing himself to open his eyes, and look down to where John's perfect, thin lips were stretched around his cock. The doctor hummed again, causing the vibrations to travel straight to Sherlock's member, making him twitch and squirm. 

The doctor pulled up again, running his tongue around the tip a few times, and swallowed Sherlock down again, going a little bit deeper this time. When he got to the comfortable depth, he used his other hand to tug at the length he couldn't fit in his mouth, and started to bob his head applying light suction. 

Sherlock watched mesmerized as John took him into his hot perfect mouth and started to move and suck on him, humming from time to time, causing the detective to react almost comically. John sucked, Sherlock moaned, John tugged at his cock, Sherlock bucked up, John scraped his teeth gently over his hard flesh, Sherlock keened and arched back, John moved his fingers again... Good god, his fingers. 

Sherlock almost forgot that the fingers were still embedded in him. He flopped down on the bed when John moved them again, pushing them up his ass with hard thrusts. He could feel how the doctor started to scissor the digits, stretching the tight ring of muscles even more. He kept his slow, steady pace on Sherlock's cock and started to move his fingers in-time. 

Suddenly, Sherlock felt John crooking his clever fingers upwards and the electric shock of pleasure ran through him at a lightning speed.  
“Jooooohnnnnn” he keened, arching his back off the bed and bearing down on his doctor's fingers. John pulled off his cock and looked up, licking his lips. 

Sherlock was lying wide-eyed, moaning softly with every breath as John's fingers jabbed into his prostate time and time again. The doctor growled and bit one milky thigh, before he propped himself on one arm. 

“Sherlock... what do you want?”  
“More, John... pleaseeee...” the last sound came out as a whimper when John lined up his third finger and pushed roughly inside. Sherlock bit down on his lip, screwing his eyes shut and gripping the sheets in a tight grasp.  
“Fuck” he gasped after a few moments, relaxing a little, before he arched up again. John watched him intently, scissoring his fingers and sucking bruises all over his hips. 

John's own cock was demanding attention, painfully hard by now, but the doctor would be damned if he let his own arousal drag him away from the wonderful sight before him. 

Not a chance.

Sherlock's head was trashing on the pillows, his hips were twitching with John's every movement. The doctor looked down at his fingers disappearing all the way in Sherlock's stretched hole. The pink flesh, slick with lube and sensitive from John's attention, was fluttering around the digits, as if not sure if it wanted them in or out. 

A thought occurred to the doctor and he weighed it just for a few seconds, before he stilled his fingers, burrowed to the hilt, and ran his pinkie over the stretched rim a few times. Sherlock froze, muscles in his thighs quivering, and John withdrew his fingers and started to push all four into the detective's body. 

He was about a halfway in, the abused hole stretching slowly and with difficulties. John dribbled a little more lube onto his hand and pushed in a little more. He heard a whimper and looked up. 

Sherlock was lying down on his back, looking half frozen, jaw slack, eyes wide open and unseeing.  
“Sherlock?” The doctor asked, concerned, his hand stilling completely. He made is way up Sherlock's body, fingers still inside him, and looked down at the younger man's face. 

“Sherlock” he repeated, trying to grab his attention. “Hey, love, look at me” John brought his other hand to Sherlock's face, pushing away his sweaty fringe and turning his head slowly. 

Sherlock finally snapped out of his strange state and looked at John. The vulnerability in his gaze, the naked need and, John felt his insides going cold, a shadow of fear written all over his features, made the doctor's throat tight.  
“John...” the detective whispered and he could do nothing else but bend down to kiss him softly, running his tongue along the plump lip and sucking it inside his own mouth for a moment. 

Sherlock responded hesitatingly, bringing both of his hands to John's head, keeping him near when they parted for breath. John opened his eyes, looking down at him with concern.  
“Alright?” He asked in a whisper. Sherlock nodded slowly, casting his gaze away. 

“What's wrong? We can stop anytime” the doctor reassured him, making a move to finally withdraw his fingers from his body that suddenly went tense. The detective reached with one of his hands quickly and locked John's arm in place, shaking his head. 

“It's just... so...” he swallowed a few times, trying to find the right words. John waited patiently, fingers of one hand still inside Sherlock, the other winded up in his hair, running over his scalp slowly.  
“Too much?” He asked after a moment, when it became clear that Sherlock won't find any words. 

“A little... the last time I did... something like this...” the words drifted away and Sherlock shook his head, screwing his eyes shut. John could feel rage rising in him. 

Last time... 

God, it would be better to whoever Sherlock had done it with for John not to find him. Right now he could tear that someone to pieces with his bare hands. He sighed and turned his lover's head toward him, forcing him to look at him. 

“We can stop” he said gently, but Sherlock only shook his head again.  
“No, please. I want it... just not...” and he was at a loss of words again. John could hardly believe it, the great Sherlock Holmes, with his clever tongue, couldn't word whatever he wanted to say. 

“Sherlock, just say how you want it, okay? I'll do whatever you want” he whispered, shifting closer to kiss Sherlock once again. The kiss was desperate, yet still hesitant on Sherlock's part. 

“You can have my mouth, if you want” John whispered against his lips, and moved to get down between his legs again, but the younger man stopped him, pulling him into a tight embrace.  
“No, John. Can you... like this? Just...”  
“Like this?” The doctor asked, pulling his fingers out and pushing just three of them gently inside. Sherlock arched and keened, nodding his head 'yes'. 

John set up a slow but sure rhythm, smirking to himself when the cock that was brushing against his arm started to harden again. It lost interest somewhere during the interval, but now if was filling again, the tip dampening, leaving wet smear on John's skin. 

Sherlock bit his lip, trying to silence his groans. John couldn't stand it, he wanted to hear every delicious sound he drew out of the lanky detective. The doctor leaned in, kissing Sherlock hard and speeding up the movements of his hand. 

The younger man moaned into his mouth, feeling John pressing the tips of his fingers into his sweet spot. He could feel the heat pooling in his belly, the tension of his muscles rising. John pressed down with his arm, effectively trapping the head of his cock between his hipbone and the inner side of his forearm. 

Sherlock gasped and tensed, trembling. John raised himself a little, drinking in the beautiful sight. 

And then Sherlock was coming on John's fingers, squeezing his digits tightly, bucking and arching, lips opened in a silent cry. The doctor kept thrusting, helping him to ride it off, listening to the quiet chant of 'John John Johnjohnjohnjohnjohn...” that started as soon as Sherlock's come started to wet his belly and John's arm. 

The doctor ground his own erection into the detective's hip, still moving his fingers a little. When Sherlock lied boneless back on the bed, John tugged himself out of his pants and gave himself a few efficient strokes. It didn't take long, not with the whole evening worth of fingering Sherlock, watching him become undone. John buried his head into the younger man's neck and came, moaning out Sherlock's name. 

When he came to himself, he rolled off the detective and to his side, looking at Sherlock from the corner of his eye. The younger man was watching him silently, his hand twitching on the covers. John smiled, rolled away for a moment, took a few tissues from the box they kept at the bedside table and cleaned them both. Then he moved to lay on his back and tugged Sherlock to curl around him. 

The detective obeyed happily, tucking his head into his doctor's neck and wrapping both arms around his middle.  
“Sorry” he mumbled into the soft skin just under John's ear. The doctor tightened his arm around Sherlock's back and brought the other one to his sweaty hair.  
“It's fine” he answered softly. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I think... I should explain it... I...” and here it was again. Sherlock struggling with words. John shushed him gently.  
“You don't have to. It's fine. You should have stopped me sooner, I never wanted to hurt you” he kissed the top of his head.  
“You didn't” Sherlock mumbled, before shifting a little, making himself comfortable. 

“Goodnight, John”  
“Love you, Sherlock” John whispered.  
“I know” came the mumbled replay. Later, when John was falling asleep, he heard a quiet and breathy 'I love you, too' murmured close to his ear. Despite the sleepiness, he smiled widely.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are silver, comments are gold. Have a lovely day!


End file.
